Self Confidence
by JMBangelgirl
Summary: *A TBAA/Medicine Woman crossover* Monica helps a young doctor regain her self-confidence before perfoming one of her toughest operations. Rating for violence and mild language. Please R/R!
1. Prologue, Precious Memories

Title: 

Author: Justine M. Benoit

Disclaimer: Monica, Andrew, Tess, Gloria, Adam, Raphael, and Sam belong to Martha Williamson, CBS productions, and Moonwater Productions. All characters from "Doctor Quinn, Medicine Woman" belong to Beth Sulivan, CBS productions, and Moonwater Productions. All other characters belong to me.

PG-RATING for violence sequences and some mild language. 

PROLOGUE

Monica hung her feet over the skyscraper that she sat upon. The wind picked up and gently whipped her auburn shoulder-length hair in front of her pale face. Her brown eyes studied the large city in front of her as if they were searching for something. Actually, she was searching for someone. 

She thought back to that morning when her best friend had made a promise to her. She instinctively knew that he wouldn't break it. He had said he'd meet her here-though about fifteen minutes ago. Now she was starting to worry, considering that the usually prompt angel of death was late. He was never late. Sure, everyone had their days, but him…no, he never had. 

She shielded her eyes from the blazing sun that was almost setting behind the tall buildings, painting the horizon purple and pink. It was quite a beautiful sight, Monica thought. She tried to forget about the minutes that ticked by. She finally glanced at her watch and gasped when she realized that a half-hour had passed. She looked back up at the sun and found only a peak of it still revealed. It really had been that long. Maybe he wasn't coming. Maybe he had forgotten about her. No, not Andrew, for he never broke a promise-especially to the ones he loved.

"Oh, Andrew, where are you? You promised…" she sighed as her words trailed off. She almost laughed when she realized how stupid it was to talk to her own self. But sometimes it kept her company. If she were scared, she might hum a hymn, even though no one would be able to tell if she was singing "Jesus Loves Me" or "Jesus Loves the Little Children." It didn't matter what others heard. In her own mind, she sounded as good as the choir. Oh…that brought back awful memories. She started to blush when she thought about how fast she was kicked out of it. It sure hadn't sounded heavenly when she had taken the solo that didn't belong to her.

A few birds chirped and flew overhead. Monica smiled as sight of a white dove landing next to her. It lighted on her shoulder, cooing contently and gave a loving peck at the Irish angel. Monica giggled as it walked around the top of the skyscraper. She peered down, again her eyes searching for her friend. Then, it finally hit her. After almost forty minutes, he wasn't coming.

"Now what, my friend?" she asked the dove. It flew up and landed on her finger as if trying to comfort her. It cooed and then flew up to withhold the sky as its own. Monica slowly shut her eyes and hummed. She was lost in her own little world when an exasperated angel sat beside her.

Andrew's pale face let a smile spread over it when he heard her. She didn't even know she was there. Actually, he was somewhat scared to confront her. He was late, broken his promise, and probably made her very upset.

"Um…Monica?" the angel of death asked. Monica shot open her eyes and turned to look at him with a scared and surprised expression on her flustered face. 

"Andrew? Where…" the angel of death cut her off.

"Sorry I'm late. Ran into a few old friends." Andrew laughed. He stopped when he realized that he was the only one. Monica just watched him blankly. "Okay, I know, I know, I should've been here and I wasn't. Sorry. Can you forgive me, Angel Girl?" She nodded and smiled.

"But, Andrew, you're almost an hour late. The sun has set and the birds have finished their night songs."

"So have you," he snickered. She lovingly hit him on the shoulder and rolled her eyes. 

"Hey, just because I don't have the most angelic voice of all us angels doesn't mean that I can't sing," the angel spoke in her Irish lilt. She turned away from him, hiding her blush of embarrassment. He reached over and touched her chin, turning it back towards him.

"Yes, I know. God said to make a joyful noise, not a beautiful one," he sighed. His emerald eyes sparkled with compassion. Monica leaned down and set her head in her hands. She gazed out to the city below them. 

"Thank you," she whispered. He nodded and put his arm around her shoulder. "I remember when this town was half the size that it is now."

"Probably not even that," Andrew laughed. Colorado Springs was a good size town, people filling the sidewalks, cars zooming down the streets, and the fresh smell of food drowning the wind.

"I remember the assignment that we did together, Andy," Monica said. She looked at him, their eyes meeting. "You know what?"

"What?" he asked curiously. 

"I didn't really like you then."

"What?"

"No, seriously, I didn't. I just thought of you as some angel of death who thought he was so important," Monica said. He laughed. 

"Times change…I hope," he added. He shot her a friendly wink then elbowed her with a smile.

"There sure do," Monica sighed. She stared off into space, dreaming about that day that brought her back to the colonial ages. 

"That was one of the first times we worked with each other, Angel Girl," Andrew told her. He reached over and soothed a violent lock of auburn hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. She let out a gentle smile, though hardly hearing him. Her mind was back to that day, a long time ago. 

"Yes," Monica murmured. "It seems like yesterday."

"Maybe while we wait for Tess, we can talk about what happened," Andrew suggested.

"Huh? Oh, I'd rather not…really Andrew," she said with a wince. 

"Of course you wouldn't, hun, that's the day that…well…that was the day that you first _almost_ messed up your assignment." He laughed, though quickly turning it into a cough when he felt her glare on him. "Note I said, 'almost'. So, what really happened? I wasn't with you the whole time. Tell me the details."

"Well, if you insist…" Monica began. "Colorado Springs, July 3, 1893…"

Flashbacks are sometimes important to remember and experience, especially for angels. Monica and Andrew were about to be taken back farther than they wanted to go-much. But how far did they need to go? Why did they need to remember this certain date?

Right below the two, a man nailed up a banner, advertising the July 4 festival the next day. 


	2. Chap One, Suspicions

The sound of hoof beats pounding on the ground filled her ears on this warm summer day. It was the day before the 4th of July and the whole town was roaring with excitement. The twang of voices was heard, one particular strong one from the saloon across the dirt road, standing out. 

"I ain't serving you nothing!" it stormed. Her brown eyes observed the scene in front of her. "I don't serve no Negroes!" The upset bartender threw a black man out of the saloon with one great pounding. He lay there, helpless and bleeding quite fast.

Monica sped from her watching place, willing to help the man who lay unconscious-or so she thought. She ran over to him and knelt down, pulling her handkerchief out of her frock and dabbing his forehead. To her surprise, she found that he was just waking up. She looked up to see the angelic form of Andrew standing above her, a disappointed look on his face. His emerald green eyes showed sorrow and he knelt down beside her.

"Are you Adam's replacement?" Monica asked the stranger-though she had been briefly introduced to him before. He nodded. "Is it his time?"

"No, not if you can get help fast enough," he answered sadly. He put his hand on hers and squeezed it. "Please hurry, my friend. If you don't, there's going to be a terrible uproar in this town. This shouldn't have happened." She managed a nod and pulled her hand away. She missed Adam who had been assigned to Search and Rescue for a while. She hardly knew this angel, and she didn't really care to. He seemed too…too. She didn't know what she thought of him yet. All she knew was that she didn't like to work with him.

"Robert E.!" a woman's voice cried. A beautiful black woman ran from a small eatery just down the road. She put her hand over her mouth and gasped. "Who did this?" She looked around and tried to meet gazes with the people of the town. They didn't answer, and just kept on going with their daily work. Hardly anyone believed in meeting a black person's eyes.

"Is there a doctor in town?" Monica asked, her Irish lilt quiet and shy. The woman nodded. She pointed down the street to a small building. "You stay here. I'll go get him." Monica stood up and touched the arm of the woman.

"It's a she," she told Monica softly. "Michaela Sully." Monica stopped for a moment and ran the name through her mind. It sounded mighty familiar. It wouldn't be till much later when she placed it.

Monica held her frocks up as she tromped up the steps of the small building and lifted her hand to the door. She read the sign. It was indeed a she. The Irish angel thought that strange in a town like this. Back then, women were of little importance, and that's why it was so tough for them. She gently knocked on the old door. Sooner than she had expected, a small and petite woman answered it. Her long brown hair was tied back into a braid.

"What can I do for you?" she asked politely. Her voice was that of the richer states. 

"There was a man beat over there. He is unconscious but starting to wake up," Monica replied. She pointed over to where the black woman held her husband tightly.

"Robert E.!" the doctor gasped. She grabbed her black medicine bag and rushed across the dusty road. "Oh, Grace," she said to the black woman. "How did this happen?" 

"I don't know, Michaela, I just don't exactly know. But if it hadn't been for that woman…she just appeared out of nowhere. It was like God sent her to save Robert E."

Michaela nodded and spoke, "Yes, she saved his life. Now I'm going to need some help carrying him," she said. Grace pointed down to her moaning husband. "Go get some chlorophyll for me. He's waking up. We can't have him awaken yet-not quite. It's right in my bag over there." Grace nodded and handed her a small bottle of clear liquid. While she was at it, Michaela looked over in the direction that the mysterious woman had been. She wasn't there. 

__

That's impossible, Michaela thought.

Andrew sighed as he sat by Robert E.'s side. He put his hands in his head and ran his fingers through his short, blond hair. He whispered a prayer. There was still no answer from the Father. Assignments like these were hard. He guessed that the man beside him would be okay. After all, he had just received a few blows to the stomach. So why was he assigned here?

"Grace," Michaela said softly. "Could you get Colleen and Andrew for me, please?" Grace nodded. The angel of death heard the sound of the door slam almost off its hinges as Grace exited the clinic.

Robert E. was still unconscious from the chlorophyll and Michaela was now observing his wounds. They weren't terribly bad. She seemed to be digging for something else in him-something deeper than bruises. She suspected there was something more.

"Here's Colleen, Dr. Mike," Grace said, dragging a young-looking girl into the small room. 

"Ma, Andrew is out of town right now," Colleen said in her sweet western lilt. She quickly pulled her hair back behind her ears. The angel of death watched the young girl put her hand over her mouth at the sight of Robert E. on the bed. She gasped and touched Michaela's arm. "Oh, Ma," she said. "Is he going to be al right?"

"I don't know…" the doctor's voice trailed off when she looked up and saw Grace standing in the doorway, her hand on her stomach.

"Oh, Michaela, please say he's going to live. There's no way I can take care of this baby alone," Grace cried. A few tears streamed down her dark cheeks. "How could he not live from just a few punches?"

"Grace, why don't you step outside for a little while. I'll be out in just a few minutes," Dr. Mike suggested. Reluctantly Grace nodded and walked out of the room. Once again, Andrew heard the door in the front of the building slam almost off its hinges.

"Ma," Colleen asked, casting a worried and confused look at Michaela. "I don't understand why you're preparing for surgery. She pointed towards the supplies that her mother was taking out of drawers and cupboards. 

"Colleen, what I'm worried about is that whoever did this sent a blow to his head. You might not have noticed it for it rests at the back of the skull. I'm afraid it might have caused something greater than a bruise."

"Like what?" the teenager asked. She peered at Michaela with curiosity bleaching her blue eyes. 

"I do not wish to discuss the condition quite yet. I would like to make sure first," Dr. Mike explained. "I don't wish to upset you so." Colleen nodded though she still didn't comprehend the situation. "Please get some sheets. We're going to need them." Colleen nodded and exited the room.

Michaela stood alone beside Robert E.'s bed, staring at him with wonder. She checked his pulse one more time. It was slow. She put her hand on his forehead and sighed. 

"Oh, God," she prayed. "Help me."


End file.
